The Holocaust

I have an idea that Gadsby himself didn't believe it would come, and perhaps he no longer cared. He must have felt that he had lost the old warm world, paid a high price for living too long with a single dream. With little ripples that were hardly the shadows of waves, the laden mattress moved irregularly down the pool. A small gust of wind that scarcely corrugated the surface was enough to disturb its accidental course with its accidental burden. The touch of a cluster of leaves revolved it slowly, tracing like the leg of transit, a thin red circle in the water. It was after we started with Gadsby toward the house that the gardener